Free A Summer In Europe by Marilyn Brant

else.”
    “Eating gelato, maybe?” Connie Sue suggested.
    “He has to go out for ice cream sometime, right?” Bea said hopefully. “Everybody—even the Pope—loves ice cream.” No one dared to disagree with her.
    Gwen found her aunt’s sudden interest in the Pope odd, given that neither of them was Catholic. But, then again, they were in Rome, and she wanted Aunt Bea to have fun looking at (and for) whatever pleased her. She, however, was going to pluck a card from Hester’s deck and spend tonight going to bed early again. She’d expected her aunt to be relieved to get a little break from her, but Aunt Bea just looked deflated by the news when Gwen told them she’d be staying in.
    “Are you sure? ” Aunt Bea asked.
    She nodded. She’d originally planned to go to see it—where there was dancing, there would be music—but she’d gotten so much sun that day and was just too tired to keep her eyes open for much longer. “We saw lots and lots of great stuff today,” Gwen said, refraining from mentioning that she’d secretly checked off every single item on her list. In her estimation, Rome had been completed. “But, much as I’d love to see this show also, I just don’t have the energy for another activity tonight.”
    “Of course, maybe you just want to stay in with Hans-Josef, too,” Connie Sue suggested, grinning. “He’d be quite a catch, that boy.”
    Alex laughed. “And he’s been watchin’ you, Gwen.”
    “What?” Gwen said. This was news.
    Aunt Bea swiveled around in her chair, nearly knocking over the bottle of sparkling water and sending the bowl of olives teetering. She looked jubilant to the point of elation . “Really?” She didn’t stop scanning the dining room until her gaze landed on Hans-Josef, who was, indeed, looking at their table. Specifically at Gwen. Of course, with four sets of eyes staring at him, he abruptly glanced away.
    Her aunt beamed waves of delirious joy at her. “Yes, dear. You should stay in. Get some rest.” She turned to Connie Sue. “What’s his room number?”
    Gwen endured their teasing and pointless speculation about her possible “evening with the emperor” until they finally left on their special night excursion. Hans-Josef was on hand in the lobby, helping the tour members onto the bus with Guido at the helm and fielding any last-minute questions.
    After the final person going on the tour had been ushered to the bus, Hans-Josef surveyed the lobby and caught her eye. “Are you not going to the tarantella?” he asked politely.
    “I don’t think I could handle an evening out right now,” she admitted. She couldn’t help but notice he looked fatigued, too. It was obvious he needed a quiet night off—perhaps even more than she did. She smiled warmly at him, deciding to chat for a few moments just to appease her aunt, who’d be pleased to know tomorrow morning that her niece at least talked to the handsome tour guide, even if she didn’t end up going to his room. Ha! Imagine.
    “I cannot handle an evening out either,” Hans-Josef agreed. He took several deep breaths and seemed to be studying her, perhaps trying to decide whether or not she’d welcome further conversation.
    She returned the light scrutiny. He was, after all, rather nice to look at. Mid-thirties. Very toned and trim physique. Impeccably groomed and dressed. Empirically speaking, he was a considerably attractive man.
    She felt a sudden pang of guilt on Richard’s behalf for thinking these thoughts. Then again, Hans-Josef reminded her of Richard in a number of ways. As with Richard, she was comforted by Hans-Josef’s precision and the sense of security he seemed to effortlessly emit. Richard, too, was a reasonably attractive, well-dressed man. But, above all, it was the air of competence that united these two men in Gwen’s opinion. Her tour guide, she realized with a start, was a German-speaking version of her almost-fiancé.
    Gwen was about to excuse herself to go up to